


All soft edges and gentle slopes.

by Yelposaurus



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Family, Friendship, Letters, Orphanage, This is set back in 1914-18, War, World War I, they're in the army, trenches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-09 04:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20847641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yelposaurus/pseuds/Yelposaurus
Summary: One man has already been out on that battlefield. He came back, and was told it was damn near a miracle. But his wife is waiting at home, so he's going back out with her in his mind.Another man is young, and has recently joined. He only has his old orphanage waiting for him back in England, but that's all he needs.This is the story of these two men, and how one writes for the other."I can't say I'm not excited. I'm proud of myself, that I made it this far. I always said that I was going to save people, didn't I? I'll be saving real lives now. I'll win this war, yeah? For me, for you, for the other orphans. For the world. And then I'll come back. I promise."---I hope he's happy, now that he's fought for the world.And I would say that he's fulfilled his dream - the dream of saving lives: he's definitely saved mine, that's for sure.





	All soft edges and gentle slopes.

The earth is wet and soggy beneath us. It's probably staining out clothes, but I really don't think either of us care right now. Maybe it's because we're already covered in mud and dirt, or maybe it's the knowledge that people are dying out there on the front line - I can't really tell. It's almost become something similar to normal at this point. For me, at least. I can't talk for this newbie next to me.

He's shaking.

We've been told that we need to go to the front line, and get up and out onto no man's land as fast as possible. For me, it's fine. Well, not fine, i would really rather be at home with my wife, but I figure that if I'm able I may as well fight. And I have. I've been out onto the battleground, onto that place between the two sides - that coffin filled with corpses. I came back with minor injuries, and was told that it was a miracle. I was patched up and sent back to the reserves. We're being sent off early - rotating on our 5th day instead of the usual 8. I've already seen the horrors up there, the bodies, the blood. This man sitting next t me, however, is fresh as a green field, even if I've almost forgotten what one looks like. He's one of the youngest I've seen around, and came in with the newest batch of reinforcements. 

He's told me a bit about himself; says he's an orphan, that he can't read, can't write. But he wants to send a letter back anyway, and I'm gonna write it for him. 

"Dear Madam," he says, and it's on the scrap of paper before he can take his second breath. I will write this letter for him. Can't say I'll ever forgive myself if I don't. 

"I..."

I look up when he pauses, and find him lost for words. "I'm sorry. I don't quite know what to say. There's so many things that have happened even while I've been here that I..."He trails off, and I figure that I should write everything down: if not for this man - this soldier - sitting next to me, then for his second family. The one back home. 

"Days here are pretty long. The rations are small, but I've made so many friends that I'm able to forget about my selfish empty stomach sometimes." He tilts his head back, eyes looking up - at what, I don't really know. The soldier sighs. "We've been ordered to get out to the front line, and go straight over the top."

He smiles, the dried mud on his face cracking as his cheeks move, crinkling with the skin around his eyes. 

People like him - good people, kind people - should never have to fight in such a war. That should be left for people like me.

"We're going to fight. We're gonna fight for you and for everyone else waiting at home."

I don't really want to believe that people like this man are going to be fighting, but I find it hard not to when the evidence is sitting here smiling. 

Said evidence almost reminds me of how I was before everything happened.

He's looking down at his feet that are stretched out in front of him - only slightly, as we're still in a trench - and his eyes soften and brows almost furrow and he looks close to crying, but the smile stays - all soft edges and gentle slopes. 

"I can't say I'm not excited. I'm proud of myself, that I've made it this far. I always said that I was going to save people, didn't I? I'll be saving real lives now. I'll win this war, yeah? For me, for you, for the other orphans. For the world. And then I'll come back. I promise..."

I've just finished writing the last word when we hear shouting echoing down the trenches. It makes him jump. 

"We should get going," I say, crawling a little to get out of the dug-out. 

"Come on."

I hold my hand out, and pull him up when he takes it. 

"Just at the end, can you write one more thing?" He says, and I don't think I have any right to say no. 

"Yeah. Sure can."

We start to walk as fast as possible, although it's hard to when you're trying to write. 

"You've given me everything I ever could have asked for. I don't think I can thank you enough, so I'll fight for you now. I can only hope it'll make up for it."

He's looking down at his feet again, and his eyes have gone all glassy, that gentle smile disappearing like it wasn't ever there. Like it's buried under all the mud on his face, all the bodies out there on that battlefield,all the lives back home. 

"At least, if I die, I'll get to see mom and dad again, right?" And when he looks up, his eyes are clear, his smile back, all gentle slopes and soft edges, and I can't look away, not really, and I can only think one thing as I look at him. 

The first drop of rain lands in the mud beside us, and we start to hurry. They need us out there, on that bloody battlefield.

Let's fight for all those we love, all those we care for - all those we lost. We'll win this, for them, and for us. 

And I hope to God that this man with the gentle smile, all soft edges and gentle slopes, this man who had his parents taken from him, and was given a second chance - _this soldier_ \- I hope to God he doesn't die. Not in this damned war, nor any other place. 

Our footprints are swallowed up by the mud and the water, no trace left behind.

No good men left alive, either.

But there was a letter sent home, and a boy reunited with his parents. 

I hope he's happy, now that he's fought for the world.

And I would say that he's fulfilled his dream - the dream of saving lives: he's definitely saved mine, that's for sure.


End file.
